Brotherhood
by MilesTailsPrower-007
Summary: Brotherhood. The one thing Ed and Al have that refuses to be torn away. Collection of brotherly drabbles of varying length. No OCs or pairings. Reviews appreciated! Mangaverse.
1. Winter

**Winter **

Winter. Crisp cool air lent a fresh quality to the gray sky, especially in the countryside. The hillsides, usually emerald and lively beneath the sun, were frosted with snow like little powdered cakes. Together, they formed a patchwork of seemingly endless whiteness, stretching on and on towards a horizon that one could hardly see by squinting. The snow was relatively untouched, too. Unlike in the city, where snow only inhabited the edges of streets and the roofs of some buildings, the snow here was everywhere, fresh and solid and clean, never before stepped on by the boots of city dwellers.

Edward Elric was not pleased about it, though. He and Al had chosen to stick close to the train tracks. The ground was trustworthy there and didn't have random dips and uneven surfaces. The train itself hadn't passed by in a good many years; folks from the city just had never really bothered to come back for the railroad ties. Ed was frowning in concentration, taking each step very precisely, and making sure to stamp down the walls of snow that existed between his footprints. It would make the trail easier to walk back down later. His hands were formed into tight fists. The gloves really weren't keeping them warm enough, but he wouldn't readily admit to being cold.

Alphonse clanked patiently along behind him. Neither had spoken in quite some time. Ed seemed far too engrossed in the task at hand, besides. He had asked once before if Ed would rather that he walk first to make a path through the sixteen inches of powder, but the boy had irately insisted the snow 'had it coming anyway' and proceeded to stomp through it.

Additionally, they hadn't seen any kind of a building in awhile, and Al was beginning to worry that getting off the train when they did was a stupid idea. The next stop had only been a little while away, and it would have decreased the amount of walking considerably. So much for that now.

Ed came to a sudden stop, and Al partially stumbled, almost crashing into him. "Something the matter, Big Brother?" he queried, peering into the distance over Ed's blond head, hoping to see something besides miles and miles of blinding white.

"No, nothing," mumbled Ed. He wrung his hands together for a moment, but Al didn't see. He could hardly feel his fingers, and started to suspect his hands would be just as warm without the gloves as they were _with_ them. The automail hand was lucky—at least it wasn't suffering from the cold. However, his left hand was cold enough to make up for both of them.

"Are you cold?"

"No!"

"Then why did we stop?"

"Shut up." Stomp, stomp.

Al sighed and followed him. There was only a small break in conversation. Al was tired of the quiet. He got enough of it at night. "Sure is pretty out here, isn't it?"

"I guess. Hurts my eyes, though." Pause. "I feel like taking a break."

Ed turned, looking around for something that he could possibly sit on. As nothing in nature was making itself readily available, he cleared a patch of ground of some snow with his boot, took his suitcase from Al, and plunked it down. It would do well enough. Sitting down atop it, he looked up at Al, a solid wall of steel towering over him. He was almost pitiable; so huge and awkward on the outside despite being so small on the inside. Looking around, there was nothing but the two of them and the snow. When they were little, they'd spent many a winter day playing on the rolling snowy hills of their hometown until it got dark out. Nothing beat their brother-versus-brother snowball fights, either. As a team, they could beat anybody, but against each other, they'd go for hours without a champion.

"How far do you think we have to walk?"

"Huh?" Ed snapped out of his thoughts. "Oh… I dunno. Not much farther, I hope. We've been walking less than an hour and I'm already sick of the scenery." He sighed and rose to his feet, setting his suitcase upright and brushing the snow off it. "Well, I guess we'd better start moving again."

"If you say so."

What happened next happened a little too quickly for either of them to fully comprehend. More or less, the brothers both attempted to move onto the same area of space at the same time. Ed hooked his jacket on Al's armor and pulled one way, whilst Al pulled in a slight other direction, and before they knew what was going on, Ed had landed on the railroad tracks and Al had fallen into the snow bank opposite it. There was a large and awkward pause as they both wondered what happened. Edward got up first, inspecting his jacket for any damage—there was, of course, not much.

"Al?" he asked tentatively.

The massive suit of armor remained slumped in the pile of snow for a moment. "Clumsy!" he laughed, seizing a large handful of snow and hurling it right at Ed's face.

Ed looked shocked for a moment, but then writhed in discomfort as lumps of snow made their way off his face and down the collar of his shirt. "Aaah! Cold! I hate you, Al!" He bent over and grabbed some snow, too. Finding himself unable to pack the powder into much of a ball, he just whipped it right at his brother as it was. It made a satisfying _splat_ as it hit the chest plate.

"Oh, _now_ you're going to get it!" Al said, feigning anger. He rose up, all seven feet, two inches of him, took off his helmet, scooped up a load of snow and flung it right at the other alchemist. Ed shielded himself with his arms.

"Hah! Nice try!" He clapped his hands together and pressed them to the ground. In a flash of alchemic lightning, a wall of snow rose up in front of him, just high enough for him to have a good view over. However, Al didn't plan on giving up so easily.

And so the war raged on.

* * *

The sky grew dark overhead, clear and cold and royal blue. Shadows were long, trailing behind whatever existed in the scenery to beget them. Ed and Al lay on their backs in the packed down snow, staring into the space above them. Ed's chest still rose and fell just slightly from the snow fight that had lasted for hours. There was, of course, no winner. All around them, the snow had been formed into spectacular shapes by their alchemy; some shapes simple and used as defense, others elaborate and strange and only forged as entertainment. Neither spoke now, but Ed was smiling and knew that if Al were capable, he would have been, too. 

"You're a second-rate alchemist, Al," he said in playful scorn. "You spend all your time around me, and you can't make a decent fort."

"You wish." Al's face was obviously devoid of expression, but his voice smiled instead. There was a creak, and he sat up, realizing fully just how long they'd lost track of time for. There was definitely no way they'd catch a train today. It was already at least six o'clock. He felt no sense of urgency despite the tardiness, however. "We should go now, I think."

"Yeah." Ed got up, brushing clumped snow off the back of his red jacket and handing his suitcase over to his brother. There was an expectant sort of a pause. "…Good game, Al."

"Thanks. You were good, too."

"I haven't lost it, haha…"

Nothing else was said; the conversation melted away after that. The two started back on track, headed in the direction of the nearest town once again, leaving behind them all of their strange sculptures in the winter wonderland. Something felt different now. A lone breeze blew chilly air across the frosted hills, and stars began to dot the velvet blanket of sky. It was still cold out as they walked; in fact, the temperature had sunk since earlier… but Ed hardly felt the cold at all.

END


	2. Dream

**Author's Note:**_Bah. I'm sorry this is almost purely angst. Very boring to write, really, and I fear it might be equally boring to read. Either way, I figure it counts as vague brotherliness, and so it gets put in here. First person perspective, but you'll know who it is really quick. All of the stories on here will be one shots (single chapter mini stories) of... well, brotherliness. Ayup. _

* * *

**Dream**

Sometimes I wonder why things turned out like this.

Why they had to turn out like this. If they even _had_ to turn out like this at all. I wonder if I should blame myself, my brother, my teacher… I've tried. I tried to blame Teacher for not beating it into us harder. We were scared of her. We listened to every word she taught us. Well, except a few, I guess. I tried to blame my brother. I tried a lot. I tried when I shouldn't have. People have asked me if I hate him. I don't. I can't. I need him. In desperation, I've tried to blame Dad. My brother tries to when he's angry. Maybe it's his fault Mom's gone. Maybe. Maybe.

I never blamed Mom for leaving us, though. We loved her so much.

I blame myself most. So many times, I wondered what would have happened if I had been a better alchemist. If I had studied more. If I had looked over the details better. If I had tried harder. I wondered if it would have made a difference. Sometimes, I try to imagine what it would have been like. We would still have Mom, I would still be whole and unserious, and my brother wouldn't be haphazardly missing limbs. He wouldn't be sour and angry and sarcastic. He wouldn't lash out whenever someone else tried to help him. He wouldn't be bitter. I wish I could help him, but sometimes all I can do is wonder where he gets the energy from to hurt that loudly. I've tried, and I can't do it. Not like him.

All I can do is stop him from trying to hurt other people when he's so angry. It's a fire only he can put out now, I think.

Sometimes, when my brother is asleep, and I'm alone, all I have left is time to think. That's when I try to blame people. I wish I wouldn't. I try to blame someone, or I think about what a monster I am. I'm not a monster. I'm not a monster as long as I don't think I am. My thoughts are wretched ones then. But… if I'm quiet, and I let my mind wander, I find it's the closest I can get to having dreams. Happier ones. Sometimes I see Mom when I do that. I see her… She's smiling, and happy, and so pretty in the fresh air. She's so alive again, without fighting to be strong or pretending not to be lonely. She looks so perfect. But then she turns, and she sees me—she sees _us._ She sees what I… no-- what **we** have become…

…and she weeps.


	3. Scrapes

_**Author's Note:** I keep seeing sets of one-shots, kind of like this, in which the stories end much more abruptly, and I kind of liked that, so I thought I'd make one like that, too. It's a little feeble, I admit. I wrote this because everyone turns Al into a ball of gooshy, sweet sugar, when in fact, he isn't... In the manga, anyway. Sorry if nobody gets it. The ending is a little weak._

* * *

The room was peaceful, or at least relatively so. It was afternoon, and the only real sounds were produced by the occassional person or two walking down the hall, boots scuffing the floor, conversations casual. Ed and Al were sitting in a more-or-less empty room that had previously been someone's office. That person had been transfered, however, and so this room was vacant until its new occupant was chosen. All of the furniture remained, but it seemed essentially blank regardless, due to the lack of paperwork on the desk, or personalized book collections on the shelves. Its linoleum floor shone dimly under the ceiling lights.

Edward sat on a chair (the one he had found at the desk, in fact), his right leg out in front of him with the pant leg pushed up to the knee. He was irate; moreso than he should've been on a day where he had virtually nothing else to do. In front of him, Al was carefully cleaning off the angry red scrape that ran from just above Ed's ankle to just below his knee, and Ed was not at all pleased that someone else was cleaning off his "anger wounds" for him. He wasn't going to object. Al was stronger than he was, and they both knew that if Al didn't clean up the gravelly mess, there was probably little that Ed would have done with it himself.

Finally, the dirt had been removed, and Al picked up a cloth covered in antiseptic, wringing it out to prevent excess from running down his brother's leg. He felt a little sour over the way his brother never, ever listened, but there wasn't much to be done about it. Ed just watched him unpleasantly until the antiseptic pressed against his raw skin.

"Owch! Dammitt, that hurts!"

"Oh, stop it," Al said without looking up. He was used to Ed's temper, and his yelling, and his sarcasm, and his... overall bad demeanor. Hard words and a loud voice didn't make him back off much anymore. "It would hurt just as much if someone else did it."

No. It would hurt more.


	4. Arguements

**Author's Note: **_I'll continue making these brief, for the exception of an occasional long one when I have a good idea.  
_

* * *

It was raining, and Ed was sulking, and he was angry and he wanted to kick Alphonse in the shin. It wouldn't hurt him, though, and that made Ed even angrier, although if it was at himself or his brother, he wasn't entirely certain.

"You're stupid," he says angrily.

"And you're childish," Al replies coolly.

"Shut up."

Al is stupid whenever he's right about his older brother being resentful, stubborn, or any other adjective that embarrasses him in front of that callous colonel. Oh. Oh, Al is going to get it one of these days. Ed means it. Oh yes. Which day, however, he was unsure. He hated being unsure. Stupid Al.

"If you're mad like this when we go back to headquarters later, the colonel is going to make fun of you again."

Ed rolls his eyes, but Al smiles inwardly. His brother is so petty sometimes... but he wouldn't have him any other way.


	5. Eyes

**Author's Note: **_It would bother me, too. :P  
_

* * *

The room is dark and quiet.

He stares at the ceiling because he can't sleep, then turns over. Something glows from across the room. He turns over again. The wall is in his face now. He moves back a little. He has never liked sleeping near a wall. There is a shuffle from the other side of the room. A clank. Something falls over. He sits up.

"What is it?" he asks more groggily than he thought he would. He didn't realize he was tired until now.

"It's nothing. I just knocked something over," Al replies. "Sorry."

"S'fine..." He lies down, but turns over. Again. Now he's not facing the wall.

Vague outlines are visible through the shadows now. His eyes are growing used to the dark. He can see Al's dark shape looming harmlessly, not far away. He wants to ask what Al is trying to_ do _in the dark, but it's pointless. He probably just can't find his way around as well without any light. And he's so _big_...

But his soul, glowing quietly through the helm of his armor, is keeping Ed awake.


	6. Seeing Red

**Author's Note:** _I keep stealing themes from those "100 Theme Challenge" things here and there, but if you have a theme you want me to try, feel free to offer it. This one is kind of short, though..._

* * *

Armor clanked, awkwardly, conspicuously through town. Normally, he'd be embarrassed to make such a spectacle of himself, but right now, that was insignificant. Left. Right. Nothing. He turned another corner, trying to remember where he'd started from. People, milling through the streets in the morning air. He looked around street vends, around flower boxes, around buildings. Nothing,

He stopped. Waiting. Thinking.

He ran another block, and the crowds thickened. And there, in the middle, was a flash of red. "I can see you, Edward!" he yelled, laughing, and pushed his way through the crowd. The figure made no attempt to escape.

"I thought it would be easiest to hide in the open," Ed responded in dismay, hands in his pockets. "But you weren't supposed to find me this fast."

"Your jacket gave you away."


	7. Friendship

**Author's Note: **_Last one for now, I promise. Thanks for putting up with them all! xD_

* * *

There is no work today. They lie out on the grass, greenery sprawled out all around them, staring at the sky. Clouds drift lazily past, and they watch, content merely to lay there for now. It's quiet, but it's a good quiet, and this is a luxury they can't afford not to take advantage of.

"That one looks like Major Armstrong's mustache," Al muses, pointing a gloved finger at a cloud.

"Which one are you looking at?" asks Ed, unable to find it. "The one right above your head looks like a moose."

"It doesn't! It looks like a tree."

"What kind of a tree has antlers like that?"

"Those are the branches."

Silence hangs pleasantly over them. In this moment, there is no Philosophers' Stone. There's no military. No death. No alchemy. No grief. No war. No armor separating Ed and Al. There is nothing but the happy musing of two brothers, lying in the grass and looking at the clouds.


	8. Hold My Hand

**Author's Note: **_Very random scenario, I realize. Oh well. xD_

_The themes all come from those 100 Theme things, but I'm using two different ones, so I don't specify numbers._

* * *

___  
_

"The view is no good," Ed complains, leaning over the railing and trying to peer far enough into the distance. He finds that he can't, no matter how much he strains. He's not tall enough to see for himself. "I can't see from here."

"You could stand on the rail," Al offers.

This strikes his brother as a somewhat good idea, and looks around for a lamp post, or a street sign or any other means of staying up. He figures even just crouching at partial height on the rail would be good enough, but there's nothing to keep him from falling. "There aren't any posts," he replies, rejecting Al's idea. "Even if there was something about this high--" He gestures with one hand.

"Or you could hold my hand," the armor says.

And sure enough, that works.___  
_


	9. Only Human

**Author's Note: **_Irony!_

* * *

___  
_There's nothing to do today because it's pouring rain, and the train recently had an accident. It's under repairs now, so the brothers are stuck in the middle of nowhere until another train comes by. As far as they're aware, another train knows of the situation and is on its way, but that doesn't change the fact that they're stuck. And bored.

"I'm bored," Ed sulks, not caring who hears him.

"I know."

They are sitting on the bench in the train station, under the overhang so they don't get wet. Ed would honestly prefer to get wet so that he'd have something else to complain about, but if he gets up, Al is going to follow him, and drying off that armor is a pain he'd rather avoid. The armor looms next to him, unmoving. He elbows it just to reassure himself that it's really Al in there and that he isn't just losing his mind.

"...hmm?"

"Nothing. I was just stretching."

"Oh. Okay."

Ed shifts awkwardly. It really just is the two of them there. Everyone else went to find somewhere warmer to wait. Al can't feel the cold, and Ed doesn't care, though, so they stayed. "Hey... uhm, you know that thing we fought about the other day?"

"Uh-huh."

Al watches his brother, who is now awkwardly trying to look casual, as if it didn't bother him. He isn't doing a very good job. It was a stupid 'thing', really, but Al knows better than to say so.

"Sorry," Ed says quickly.

"It's alright," Al replies. He feels a warm satisfaction in Ed's remorse, however; he knows his brother is capable of being mature if he wants to. "We've always fought about stupid things. Only human, right?"  



	10. Precious Treasure

**Author's Note: **_Obviously Al isn't back to normal in the manga yet, but this is my feeble idea of what it could be like when he does get his body and soul back together. If you haven't read to Chapter 52 yet, you might not get it, though... D:  
_

_I don't expect to do a lot of one-shots with human Al, though (except for flashbacks), on account of that not being manga-canon at the moment. :B  
_

* * *

___  
_  
The alchemical lightning fades away, and the armor falls crashing to the ground. Lifeless. Empty. 

Ed pauses, his heart pounding madly, and he fights to be calm. The body doesn't move. It's still looking at him, gold eyes umoving. Ed holds his breath. The eyes flick around momentarily. There appears to be a single, visible experimental breath. Edward Elric finds himself shaking, but there's nothing he can do to stop.

"...Al?" he whispers tentatively, his voice trembling along with his body.

The eyes shimmer, something the body couldn't make them do on its own. A trembling smile creeps over the thin face. The face he was torn away from. The face he earned back. "...Edward."

He has no control anymore. He runs for the figure and engulfs him momentarily in warm arms. He doesn't want to let go. He has to, though. Ed picks up his red jacket (now rumpled from being tossed aside earlier), and drapes it carefully around his brother's shoulders. Al practically falls into him, grasping as tightly as he can, trembling hands clinging to fistfuls of cotton fabric he can actually feel again. And Ed is warm.

"You're shaking," Ed says quietly, and for the first time in a long, long while, he feels tears fall down his cheeks.

"I know," Al sobs. "And I'm glad."


	11. Playing the Melody

**Author's Note: **_If Barry can whistle, I'll assume this works, too.  
_

* * *

___  
_  
It's dark again, more so than usual. It's raining this evening, and the streets shine black with the wet. The weather has been so dreary, and Edward and Alphonse have retired early, gladly giving up the headache of study for the quiet of sleep. Ed often finds it difficult to fall asleep, though, often because his mind is so bogged down by everything he feels he has to do. He lies silent, tired gold eyes resting on the dull metallic shine of his right hand.

From somewhere behind him comes a soft, unreal piece of music; warm but sad, and very familiar. It fills his heart, and he almost wants to deny knowing where it was coming from, or why he recognizes it.

"Alphonse?"

The tune stops. "Does that bother you? I can stop."

"No, it's okay," he says quietly as Al's nostalgic, if not eerie, humming once again plays back through the darkness. Mom's favorite waltz. "Don't stop..."


	12. All That I Have

_**Author's Note:**_ This one's not great, but I haven't updated for awhile, so it'll do. Implied Christmas-But-Not:D

And someone should have told me I used rain way, way too many times.

* * *

"I hate this time of year," Ed grumbles, referring to the snowy winter wonderland the towns have become with their frosted window panes and frozen lakes for skating.

Al likes it, honestly, because the cheerfulness rubs off on him. It makes him hopeful that someday they'll be back to normal, and the idea of enjoying winter properly again gives him something to look forward to. There is nothing quite like heading back to a warm house after a day out in the cold air. "You're just being cynical again."

"So what?"

Typical Ed bad attitude. He tries to ignore him, though, because he'd rather put up with Ed sulking for being ignored than missing out on an opportunity to borrow from the smiles of others. He can sulk if he wants to. Al knows he's just bothered by the 'togetherness' of the time of year. In all honesty, he's a little jealous himself, but it was difficult not to be. They walk awhile in silence, going over a little bridge that crossed the frozen waters.

"Look," Al says, voice touched with warm amusement as he gestures to a father teaching his little girl how to skate. "Isn't that cute?"

Ed watches for a moment, and his face flickers into a faint smile before he turns his head away, hands jammed in his pockets. His brother begins to feel somewhat bad for trying to ignore him before. He does seem upset, and not just in his regular, sulky Ed way. He seems… disappointed.

"Hey… are you okay?" Al clanks himself to a stop, staring at his brother's flamelled back.

"Yeah, it's nothing. Forget it." He turns and eyes the armor suspiciously. "Why are you so interested all of a sudden?"

"This time of year is special to me," he informs very honestly. "It reminds me of home. Mom. Winry. Dad. I want _you_ to enjoy it, too. Well, what you can, anyway. Be happy we were even this lucky, just for today."

"Al…"

"It's just… you're…"

He waits for the end of the sentence, but it never comes. He doesn't press, though, accepting what his little brother _did_ say as a reasonable request. He smiles properly. "Don't get so mushy! If we keep standing here, you're going to get frozen in place."

Al walks over and gives him a whack across the back of the head. "You're a jerk," he laughs. "Do you know that?"


	13. Game

**Author's Note: **If you want to toss me any open-ended ideas, that'd be great. I really should use Roy more, now that I think of it...

* * *

He makes a face, and then another, amused by his distorted reflection. Footsteps come up behind him, shoes clacking on the tile floor and then stopping.

"What are you doing? Aren't you a little old to be playing with your reflection?"

Roy's voice, both bemused but skeptical, breaks his moment, and he turns sourly on the man, gold eyes narrowing. "None your business!" he replies irritably. "Screw off!"

"Don't mind him, sir," Al says calmly. "You know how he is."

"Of course, of course." Roy smiles sarcastically, not out of malice, but because he is playing, even if the boy doesn't realize it. "I wouldn't expect anything less from Ed than the model attitude he gives me each day we see each other. You know how we get along." He tousles the blond hair with a gloved hand, and Ed scowls, pushing his hand away.

"Go soak your head in chlorine," he grumbles.

Roy chuckles to himself, shakes his head and strides away, a light smile touching his features.

"I suppose he's right," Ed's armored companion decides thoughtfully. "It's not _that_ funny, is it?"

"Who cares?" his brother responds, and resumes making faces in the armor's newly polished chestplate.


	14. Bubbles

_**Author's Note:**_ For Kinkatia. Thanks for the theme suggestion! I might as well cram some other characters in where I can, right?

Fixed some wording so it sounds better. Thanks for the suggestions, guys:D

* * *

When Ed and Gracia come outside, and down the frosted front steps, they are greeted by a chilly breeze. A bubble lazily drifts by and pops in the air before them. Ed blinks in surprise. A bubble? He stops talking, train of thought broken, hand still in mid gesture. Another bubble floats by. Confused, he leans over the stair rail.

"Alphonse?" he calls over the snowy yard.

"Yes?"

The armor jogs up obediently, little girl in tow. Elicia is lovingly bundled up in winter clothes -Gracia's doing, of course- alongside him. Her pigtails are garnished with little red ribbons today. In her little mittened hand is a... bubble wand? She raises it to her lips and blows carefully. Bubbles fill the winter air again. Gracia comes up behind Ed, peeking over her shoulder at her little girl, blowing bubbles in the snow.

"Where did she..?"

Al knocks some snow out of one of his joints. "I made it for her."

It was indeed a custom bubble wand, star-shaped and ending with a handle shaped like a fresh garden flower. Very appropriate for a small girl. Alphonse never knocked detail in his alchemy. He looked at it a moment as the child dipped the little wand back into the soapy solution and the air was filled again with irridesent bubbles. "I got that from the shed," he admitted sheepishly, gesturing to the container. "She told me it was in there. She wanted star-shaped bubbles, but even alchemy can't make those..."

"You're so weird, Al," Ed mumbles, and shakes his head. He is smiling a little anyway.

"Thank you..." Gracia breathes. Ed and Al both looked at her in confusion. "Maes used to blow bubbles with her in the fall instead of the summer, but this year he wasn't here to." She smiles sadly. "Consider it a favor for a dead man's wife."


	15. Can You Hear Me?

_**Author's Note:**_ Angst! Angst everywhere! You've been warned! A little more perspective for Chapter 30, the beginning of Volume 8. I don't really like the end of this one, but I didn't know how to tie it all off neatly. The next one of these will be cute and angst-free! Joy!

:D

* * *

They didn't let me go after Greed, and they didn't let me go after Al. Damnit! Damnit! Maybe if I had gone after the bastard, maybe he would have told me. Maybe he would have run away. Maybe I'd have run into Al. Maybe I could have saved him. Maybe I could have saved_ someone_.

There's blood everywhere. When we pulled off the chestplate, we found that chimera woman. She was dead when we found her. Dead. Dead. We throw that word around so easily! What's wrong with us? Do we realize the weight of one human life? When it's gone, it can never come back. When you kill someone, you've prevented them from ever living again. You can't bring back the dead! I realize through my initial shock that her blood was probably what did this to Al. It's sloshed up against the back from the inside. It's everywhere. It's on me, too.

He's slumped against the wall where they put him down. I have nightmares like this. I have nightmares where I call to him, and he doesn't answer me. I have nightmares that I've lost him; that he's gone, and I'm all alone. I have nightmares that there's nothing left. Nothing. Don't leave me, Al...

I'm confused at first. I don't know what to do. This is the first time that I've ever called his name and had nothing answer me back. I doubt this armor sometimes, even if I don't tell him so. Sometimes I don't believe it's really him in there; that he's gone, and that I lost him a long time ago. I would think I was crazy except that Winry talks about metal polish, and that he talks about how the metal looks beat up. He talks about how he wants to have a human body again someday. I call him again. Again. Again. Can you hear me? Wake up!

I'm scared. I'm scared! Wake up, Al! Answer me! Tell me you're here and that you're okay, and that I'm stupid and selfish and rash! Tell me we can get back to normal someday! Wake up! I wonder if they can tell I'm panicking a little now. I wonder if they can hear it in my voice. They can't hear my heart, and the way it's pounding with fear. I can hear it, though. Don't go, Al. You can't be gone!

My fist clangs against the metal. "Come on! Say something!" Something flickers. The armor stops seeming so dead. It feels like I'm being looked at, rather than being face to face with something... unalive.

"Ed..." He sounds like someone roused from a dream. "Why is there blood on you?" Relief floods my whole body, and is immediately replaced by the cold slap of reality. I thought I couldn't save Al, but really, what's really happened here? Maybe if I'd come sooner, and gotten him out of here before Bradley came, maybe there wouldn't have been all this slaughter. Maybe this woman lying behind me with a sheet over her body would still be fighting for her master. Maybe all the dead people I saw when coming here would still be alive.

Can you hear me, Mom? Anyone? I'm sorry. I'm sorry so many people have died in the course of our misadventures. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe not. I hear myself tell Al it's not his fault that the chimera woman is dead. I think... maybe all of this is everyone's fault to some degree. Kill or be killed, right?

...  



	16. Fever

_**Author's Note:** Sorry about the slow update! I wanted something cute and non-angsty. I hope this works. Further ideas are still appreciated. 8D  
_

* * *

He is immobile today due to illness.

He has always hated being sick, ever since he was little and it prevented him from playing outside with the other children. Now it is different. He's angry that they're wasting a day not doing anything. Angry that he's stuck being useless. The colonel picked on him today. It was a warm kind of teasing, but it made him feel worse anyhow. It's bad enough being stuck in bed.

"Feeling any better?" Al is reading alchemy texts, the likes of which Izumi had beaten them into skimming years prior. Ed knows without looking.

"No," he grumbles honestly, and wishes he wasn't so hot and sore and tired. "This is stupid. I want to be out doing something."

There is a soft thud as Al's book falls closed and a broad leather hand comes to rest comfortingly on Ed's. "It's okay," he murmurs. "One day isn't going to hurt."

"Feels like it's going to be longer than a day," the older boy complains, and he tries to push the disappointment from his voice.

"And that," Al says, "is fine with me."


	17. Tried

_**Author's Note:** Someone on LJ asked for twenty-five prompts, and listing some out inspired me to do another one of these._

* * *

Letters never come.

Al wonders if Winry is saddened by their lack of correspondence; the way not so much as a phonecall has reached back into the hillside as wind of their travels. She cannot contact them. They're always moving, and mail would never reach them. Even if it would, the military staff condones use of the building's address for private mail. So letters never come.

"Why don't we write to Winry?" he asks his brother one afternoon as the older boy hurriedly jams his clothes into his suitcase so they don't miss the train.

Ed ignores him for a moment, caught up in the task at hand and wondering why his things seem to have inflated enough to prevent him from throwing the box shut. "We will," he says, but it's an empty promise again.

Al has tried himself. With good intentions, he has sat down to write letters. He wants to write one long one that makes her understand why they never write. Why they never will. He has tried.

But for all his practice, every time he tries, the pencil snaps under his grip.


	18. Conviction

_**Author's Note:**_ _Eh, not great. It's hard to "write out" the manga because of the dialogue spacing. Chapter 50 spoiler. I like Gluttony. He's awesome. :'D (EDIT: Hideous typos fixed!)  
_

* * *

It's all over in an instant.

Ed makes a mad dash to Ling in a last attempt to save him from Gluttony's monstrous new maw. Envy, still clad like Ran Fan, does the same. Al is too far away to save any of them; all he can do is reach out. It is too late now, though. Gluttony's new eye produces alchemic lightning, and a sudden flash wipes out everything in its path. Trees collapse, their sides cut clean by the blow. The ground, too, has been cut away in a perfect trench. Al is left with only a partial arm. His hand has been cut off on an awkward angle. All that remains of Envy is a still-standing lower torso, alchemically breaking down in the night air.

Al makes no note of this. He is only aware of the new quiet oozing through the woods. He is on Gluttony in a second, seizing him by the cage of fang-like ribs protruding from his open torso. He calls desperately for his lost friend; his lost brother; begs Gluttony to revoke his last action. He cannot. The open space is sealing now.

It is quiet.

Al sinks to his mental knees, finding himself unable to stand any longer. Ed is gone. Ed is gone. It's hard to process, but somehow he knows already that it is true. He has said in passing that he felt nothing, but he truly feels nothing now. There is a cold emptiness inside his soul all of a sudden. He screams in anguish and defeat, and that is the last of it.

* * *

Morning shines softly on his metal face. A bird has perched itself on his horn and now twitters brightly. Gluttony is still there, and still his usual self. He leans on one foot, then the other, ponderous and worried like a child who has stolen cookies and wonders when he is going to be caught. He watches Al a few moments longer.

"I swallowed the human sacrifice," he says, putting two fingers together and looking guilty. "And I swallowed Envy. What should I do?"

"I don't know." Al's voice is heavy, and the sound from within startles the bird. It flits off into the sky.

"Father's gonna be mad..."

Al perks up at this. It is a curious sentence, in his mind. "Your father?" he repeats, letting the numbness ebb away a little. "You have a father?"

"Uh-huh."

"The person who made the homunculi?" This is an interesting thought. Perhaps the one who made the homunculi would understand how they work. He pressed a hand to Gluttony's bulk, but failed to find any kind of a seam whereby he had opened the night prior. Ed had mentioned something about that before. Everything he consumed had to be going _somewhere_...

"There must be some kind of trick to it," Al decided with conviction. There was no way this body could house whole chunks of structures, or trees... or human beings. "After all, someone created the homunculi." Al felt better about his situation as a whole now. "That's right," he assured himself. "I don't know that Big Brother's dead!"

He would not quit here, especially now, when his brother needed him. "We promised we would get our original bodies back, together! It's just like the colonel said: 'Don't be indecisive! Don't stop thinking! And don't give up on life!'" Al's metal shell shed the last of its empty agony and filled with a desire to move forward.

"Gluttony!" he said suddenly. "Take me there! Take me to your father!"

_I'll save you yet, Ed..._


	19. Temptation

_**Author's Note:** I haven't updated this since August! Eek!_

* * *

There are days he wants to give up--days they both think they're still chasing hopeless dreams, like their mother had and like they had when she had first left them behind. There are days the older brother thinks he has done nothing but prolong the enevitable time until they discover that yes, all of this _was_ for nothing. Sometimes he wants to give up. He would never say so, but the temptation is always there.

"Do you ever think about giving up and going home?" Al asks one day when they're tired and discouraged and their last current lead has failed them--again. They're sitting on a bench, dreading assessment; dreading having to go back and admit they've still achieved nothing they set out to do.

"We don't have a home anymore, Al," Ed answers dimly. Normally there is vigor in his answer, but not today. Today he is too busy thinking about what to do next. "It helps us to keep going forward."

"No," his brother says, and the sureness of the word is almost startling. "_We_ help _each other_ to keep moving forward."

And Ed is tempted to hug him and laugh with relief. There is hope for them still.


End file.
